Shalom Freedman Poems

NOTHING SOBERS LIKE DEATH FOR ITZHAK ZAKEN OF BLESSED MEMORY)

Nothing sobers us like death
Death wakes us from our dumb dream of happiness
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ON THE DEATH OF ELLA FITZGERALD

How can a person who creates such Beauty die?
How can a person who brings so much joy to others
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THE DAY COMES TO ITS QUIET END

The day comes to its quiet end
Little has been done
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THE BEST IS TO FORGET

The best is to forget
To not know that you are old
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I WRITE A FEW LINES

I write a few lines
Before I leave the house
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THERE ARE TIMES/ I WANT TO THANK G-D

There are times
I want to thank G-d
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THE STRUGGLE TO WRITE A FEW LINES

The struggle to write a few lines
Is the struggle to stay alive
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THERE IS NO TIME FOR A POEM NOW

There is no time for a poem now
And no hope a poem will save me-
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ALL THE POEMS REMAIN WRITTEN WHERE THEY ONCE NEVER WERE

All the poems remain written where they once never were
The grass and the skies of Whitman form lines in the mind of Baudelaire
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I write and cannot write-
I dream and cannot dream-
I hope and cannot hope-
I am lost and more lost,
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